The Lost Ones
by People Person I'm Not
Summary: Bilbo Baggins is a perfectly respectable gentleman until the day three street children end up on his doorstep. Then he is dragged into things beyond his wildest imaginings. AU set in 19th-century London, no slash.


**So, I swear I'm still working on Quest of Family and Frateri. Just...I had this idea, and it wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it. Any incorrect grammar in dialogue is intentional, and the way they talk is written for effect. For the cant/slang dictionary I used, visit www . pascalbonenfant 18c / cant / Just take out the spaces. Oh, and I included a quote from the show _Being Human_, which Aidan Turner (Kili) was on...actually, he was the one who said the quote. Anyone who finds it gets virtual cookies! Enjoy, and please review.**

* * *

Bilbo Baggins was a very important man. Rich, influential, and a touch haughty. He never had anything to do with those not of his class, not even going out without his carriage if he could help it. Others of his standing would buy papers from newsboys hawking their wares in the streets or going on tours of the slums, as was in vogue. Bilbo was quite content to stay in his home, donating money through the church from time to time.

One day a thumping on his doorstep drew his attention. After sending one of the maids down to see what the ruckus was, Bilbo settled back into his chair, keeping his distance from whatever was going on.

Soon enough the maid returned, her eyes wide and her apron streaked with blood. "There are three children here, sir," she said breathlessly. "One of them's bleeding heavily."

Bilbo frowned. "Have him bandaged and send them on their way. Their parents can take care of them."

The maid shook her head. "Sir, they're street children. I doubt very much if they have parents. They're thin—bony—and clothed in rags. Can't we feed them, clothe them, care for the injured one, _then_ send them on their way?"

Bilbo sighed. "Fine."

* * *

That night when Bilbo entered for dinner, he was greeted by the sight of three children, two boys and a girl. The boys, one dark-haired, the other fair, were dressed in old things of Bilbo's, both drowning in them. The girl wore an ill-fitting dress belonging to one of the maids, her dark hair pulled into a messy plait. Her right hand and arm were wrapped in white bandages, and her head was inclined towards the dark-haired boy.

"What happened to you?" Bilbo asked, curious in spite of himself, and the girl's head snapped up.

"Caught the wrong end of a pigsticker," she said with a rueful grin. "Course, the cove did do it in self defense…"

The dark-haired boy looked up, his dark eyes meeting the girl's blue ones. "We had no choice, Meggie. Did you 'ear what 'e called ye?"

The blond boy chimed in. "'E made my tripes turn, 'e did. Deserved Meg's kick in the nutmegs."

"The look in 'is glimms, though," Meg said with a laugh.

Bilbo shook his head. "What are you talking about? Who are you? And how old are you?"

The blond boy grinned. "I take it ye don't speak cant. It don't matter. I'm Fili; I'm eighteen. This is Kili and Megara—Meg—both sixteen. Twins, and my little brother and sister."

Bilbo was spared answering by the arrival of servants with dinner—lamb, greens, dinner rolls, and mashed potatoes. The trio's eyes widened, and Bilbo almost laughed. The meal was quite sparse by his standards, but to the children it was a feast.

Once the food was dished out Bilbo started a prayer, watching the children out of the corner of his eye. They had heads bowed, but were clearly impatient for him to be done. When he was finished with the blessing, the dug hungrily into their plates, manners disregarded.

When the trio had finally eaten their fill, they were led off to bed. Bilbo sat down with his pipe and a book, but was quickly startled up by shouts and pounding from above his head. He rushed upstairs to see a manservant holding Meg firmly as she tried to escape. Another group tried to keep Fili and Kili in the room they had been assigned.

"What is going on here?" Bilbo shouted.

"They tryin' to separate us!" Meg yelled. "Make us stay in separate rooms. They lettin' _them_ stay together, but I have to be apart."

This was punctuated by a firm kick to the shin of the man holding her, who let her go. Another of the manservants turned as Meg rushed past him. "Why did you let go of her?"

The other looked at him exasperatedly. "She kicked me in the shin. The _shin_, George." He gestured dramatically.

Bilbo sighed and went over to the room in which Fili, Kili, and Meg had barricaded themselves. "You three in there?"

An indistinct murmur of voices came from within the room. "Not coming out!" Meg cried finally.

"I won't make you," Bilbo promised. "You three can stay together."

"But, sir, it's improper!" a servant protested.

Bilbo looked steadily at the man. "They are siblings, used to—I believe—living on the streets. It will be fine."

* * *

The next morning Bilbo was woken by a banging on his door. He buried his face in the pillows, praying a servant would send whoever it was at the door away.

He had no such luck. A maid knocked on his door, then entered. "There is a constable here to see you, sir."

Bilbo sighed. "I'm coming." He pulled on a dressing gown over his nightclothes, and, sliding his feet into slippers, padded downstairs.

The constable waiting there looked taken aback by Bilbo's appearance. "Beg your pardon, Mr. Baggins. I didn't realize you were still abed."

"It's not a problem," Bilbo murmured. "Go on."

"It's about those children you took in last night. They are members of a large and rather notorious family. They're pickpockets, liars, and thieves—I'd check your belongings carefully, then bring them around to the station. Or, if you'd prefer, I can take them with me now."

Flustered, Bilbo nodded. "Yes, of course. Take them."

Five minutes later Bilbo was watching the police wagon travel down the street, the trio's screams echoing in his ears. They had fought the constable and his force like madmen, not fighting fair. At some point they had changed back into their rags, the clothes they had arrived in and seemed more comfortable in, and they looked every inch the villains the constable had painted them as.

Bilbo fell exhaustedly into his armchair. It wasn't even breakfast and he had already had more excitement then he could remember ever having.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, and as Bilbo slid into his bed he breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed the contact with the lower classes was done.

* * *

As Bilbo ate his supper the following night, there came a pounding on his back door.

When Bilbo's visitors were led in, he let out a muffled curse. The group—eleven dangerous-looking men—was clearly lower class, presumably living on the streets. They had long hair and matted beards, and both her bound in complex braids.

One of them, his black hair streaked with silver, stepped forward. "Where are they?" he growled.

"I…beg your pardon?" Bilbo stuttered.

"Our lads and lass. _Where are they_?" The man glared threateningly at Bilbo.

Bilbo nodded slowly, realizing he was asking after Fili, Kili, and Meg. "The constable took them yesterday morning. Called them…ah, let me see…pickpockets, liars, and thieves."

"Damn it!" the man roared, slamming his fist on the table.

Bilbo gaped at him. "Who _are_ you?"

"Thorin Oakenshield," the man said. "And this is Dwalin, Balin, Oin, Gloin, Dori, Nori, Ori, Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur." The men shot Bilbo glances ranging from relatively friendly to absolutely murderous as their names were called.

"Pleased to meet you," Bilbo squeaked, choking on the insincere pleasantry. "I am Bilbo Baggins."

"Well, _Mister_ Baggins," Thorin said. "Ye are goin' to 'elp us regain our lost ones.


End file.
